


The Proposal, A Stony AU

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Proposal (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, Art Gallery Owner Tony Stark, Artist Steve Rogers, Comedy, Love Story, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the Plotline of the Proposal





	

“You what?” Steve hissed, tucking the folders under his arm and setting the coffee on the corner of the table.

“We’re engaged,” Tony said cooly, barely looking up from the book he was flipping through. The arrogant bastard had his hair slicked back, an italian leather suit wrapping his body as he sipped his rapidly cooling espresso.

Steve glared at the man, leaning onto the desk and puffing up his chest, “What makes you think that I’m going to commit a felony so you can keep your job?”

Tony looked up then, a smirk in his eyes and softly said, “Because if you don’t I will ruin any chance of you becoming an artist. You think STARK became the best gallery in New York without connections?”

In…out…in, Steve breathed deeply trying not to strangle his boss right in front of the whole office. “Fine.”

“Grea-”

“Ah,” Steve interrupted, “But there will be rules. I will go along with this charade only if I get promoted. And only until you get another work visa and are no longer in danger of being carted back to Italy.”

Tony eyed him up, calculating brown eyes sweeping over every inch of Steve’s body. Steve thought for a second the man would refuse but instead he held out his hand, “Deal.”

What did Steve get himself into?

* * *

Apparently what Steve had gotten himself into was fraud and pain and misery. He had to face his dad after years of not going into the military. How dare he break his family’s tradition? An artist was not a good career choice.

He’d heard it all before, didn’t really care. If he was discarded by his family then so be it, he’d make his own life, his own legacy. He didn’t need to live in the shattered carcass of a little town outside of brooklyn. Even if the Roger’s name was held with honor.

But among the fraud and pain and misery was a spark. Tony was human, Steve was starting to realize. His boss wasn’t all callus and cool like he thought. He was kind, sweet, good with kids and family and first impressions. Steve was impressed.

They were lying in two separate beds, Steve stowed away on the floor with a light blanket on his back. It’d been a long day. Long talks and walks and thoughts.

“It’s a wrench and a screwdriver,” Tony’s voice popped up from above, soft and unexpected. Like a light rain storm on the most humid day of summer.

“What?” Steve asked, reeling at the change in tone.

“The tattoo. I got it after my family died when I was 16. It’s a wrench and a screwdriver, my dad was an engineer. Best one in the business. He’d balk at me knowing that I own an art gallery and am not in fact drawing blueprints,” Tony trailed off, fiddling with the tied off ends of the blanket.

Steve felt his heart swell. How had he missed all of this depth in a man he’d thought he’d known so well? It was like missing a heat source in the middle of a tundra. Steve had been blinded by the white and didn’t try to feel. He was feeling a lot now and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“I’m sure he’d just be proud that you’re happy.” Tony hummed in response, the scratch of sheets ringing in Steve’s ears as Tony shifted in the bed.

“Maybe,” The admission was so soft and Steve almost missed it as the light clicked off and Tony turned away to go to bed.

What had Steve gotten himself into?

* * *

Love. Steve had gotten himself into all encompassing love. But instead of getting to keep that love, keep that spark, he was staring at a note left on the bed in their bedroom. It was long, written with care and remorse and that small twinge of goodbye that had aftershocks banging in Steve’s chest.

He had to catch that train. The one heading to the airport where Tony would be deported to Italy. Where Tony would be fired from his job. Where Tony would cease to be his. He couldn’t let it happen, not now, not ever.

It was the reason he was sprinting across the church of his own wedding, his Mother eyeing him weirdly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked and Steve skidded to a halt, his thought process broken from Tony long enough to know he’d have to explain.

“Tony, he’s gone,” Steve said and his Mom gasped, pulling Steve into a hug.

And then he was fighting with his father and his mother was on the group, gasp, gasp, gasping for air. He was in an ambulance, scared for two separate people and wishing on anything Holy that he wouldn’t lose two people in the span of two hours.

“Steve,” his mother whispered and Steve turned, tears blooming in his eyes. “I love you.” He almost started bawling. “I’m not going to be around forever, promise me you’ll patch things up with your father and that you’ll go after Tony?”

“Yes, anything for you,” Steve said, a few tears tumbling out. His mother looked guilty for a split second and Steve wondered why until she turned back to face the drivers.

“False alarm, can you please take us to STARK gallery on the Upper East Side?” The ambulance driver, long time friend of the Rogers, rolled his eyes but made a U turn and started heading that way.

His mother had faked a heart attack, he’d just promised to make up with his dad and he’d just lost a man he loved in a day. What had Steve gotten himself into?

* * *

Tony. He was packing up boxes, picking up old Italian vases and decorations and putting them into cardboard coffins. Steve tapped on the office door, watching as Tony glanced up, his amber eyes full of nostalgia.

“Hey,” Steve said.

“Steve?” Tony asked, glancing around the office, all eyes locked on the two of them.

“I need to talk to you.” He was walking closer to Tony, slowly making his way though the office, Tony stood there, his box in his hands. Steve could see the mask sliding into place.

“Well I don’t have time to talk, I need to catch a plane.” Tony pressed down on the intercom, telling his assistant what to do to send his boxes back to Italy.

“Tony,” Nothing, “Tony! Tony, stop talking!”

Tony paused.

“Three days ago, I loathed you. And then we had our little adventure in Brooklyn and things started to change. Things changed when we kissed, and you told me about your tattoo, but I didn’t realize any of this until I was standing alone, in a church, husband-less. So, Tony. Marry me… because I’d like to date you,” and as funny as that last line was, there was an intensity in his tone.

“You don’t want to marry me,” Tony said, “There’s a reason I’ve been alone all this time, comfortable that way,” It was bullshit and they both knew it.

They stared at each other. Unwavering, waiting for the other one to call it out. To make them a thing. So Steve did.

He kissed him. He kissed him to let them know that this was just the beginning. He kissed him to let him know that Tony wasn’t going to get deported. Hell, he kissed him to show that he’d deal with the crazy deportation agent again just to fall in love again and again.

Tony kissed him back and as they pulled apart, “Aren’t you supposed to get down on your knee or something?”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”


End file.
